


If You Give a Man a Clicker...

by rideswraptors



Series: Trauma [3]
Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, domestic fluffiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire catches Owen clicker training Baby Charlie</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Give a Man a Clicker...

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend reading the first work, "Trauma is a Tricky Thing," but you could probably read this as a stand alone. Very short.

_Cah-ric!_

Claire stopped short just in front of the door, she was loaded down with her briefcase, keys, a package of diapers, and a bag of clothes from Karen for Charlie. She promised Owen a long time ago that if she was going to work on Sundays, it would only be for 5 hours, and she had to visit with Karen and the boys after. It was one of his weird ways of keeping her connected with people despite her workaholic nature. It would be cute if he didn’t take advantage of it at every turn.

Because Claire knew that goddamn clicking noise. Anyone who’d spent any time with Owen on Isla Nublar knew what that noise was and what it meant. Damn him, he _swore_.

Instead of hauling everything inside, she nimbly set them down in the foyer, slipped off her heels, and tiptoed down the hall to catch him in the act. Her boys were splayed out on the rug, face to face. Their son was 9 months old, sitting up, crawling around, pulling himself up on any viable surface, so the fact that he was so still and so focused on Owen was, she had to admit, a little cute. Charlie was always moving around and getting into things, and the worst part was that he was so quiet about it. Damn near silent, actually. The doctors had been so concerned when he was born because he didn’t make a sound, just sedately opened his big blue eyes to let them know he was all right. He was home three days before he slept through the night. His peacefulness spooked Owen so much that he’d spent the next 3 nights in the nursery, watching to make sure the newborn was actually asleep, and breathing.

“It’s the damnedest thing,” he told her the next morning. Naturally, this didn’t mean that they got any sleep because Claire was insistent that they wake the baby every four hours to eat. But it was an alarm that woke them, and not crying. He didn’t fuss when he was set down, he smiled when he was passed around, and he was perfectly content to entertain himself if left alone for a moment. Charlie was such a perfect baby, a perfect little gentleman. Nothing like his father, _at all_.

“All right, Buddy, roll over. Roll over, Charlie!” Owen cooed at the baby. Claire saw the boy’s face light up before he dropped his little chest to the floor and rolled over onto his back. There was a tub of icing on the floor next to Owen, he swiped a bit up, let Charlie lick it off, and _clicked his damn clicker_. “Good boy! Good boy, Charlie!”

She couldn’t keep it in any longer, “I swear to _god_ , Owen!”  She heard his whispered _Oh shit_ before he jumped to his feet, subtly tossing the clicker over his shoulder to face her.

“Hey, babe,” he said casually, “Sup?” Without a response, she marched over to pick up her son, smiling brightly at his excited little face, and cooing at his little screeches. Claire spared a glare for his father, and then took him into the kitchen. Silent treatment worked best on Owen. Any yelling or argument could usually be played off with his goofiness or backward logic. Best not to acknowledge it at all. She put Charlie in his chair, got some Cheerios for him, and sat in front of him watching him play and babble. Owen was hanging around in the periphery, and she had to fight the smirk off her face because of his squirming. Silent treatment drove him _nuts_.

“ _Claire_ ,” he whined finally.

“I don’t even wanna hear it.”

“Okay, but listen…”

She gasped and swiveled on her chair, “No! No, Owen!” She jabbed a finger at him, “ _No_.”

“But it’ll make potty training so easy, seriously, Claire.”

She couldn’t help it, a smile slipped through and he saw it, smirking his victory. “Damn it, Owen, no! It’s idiotic and ridiculous! Our son is not a velociraptor or a friggin dog. No! Just no!”

Owen jumped a little in his frustration, holding pleading hands out, “But it was _working_. He totally knows…”

“How to shit on command?” she snapped. “Seriously, Owen, _seriously_? What happens when he starts school and he hears a click? Is he going to need to go every single time he hears one? I am not going to be the mother who has to keep spare clothes at school for her kid. Not gonna happen.” Owen was suspiciously nonresponsive, so she turned her head to see what he was doing. His face was in his hands, skin beet red from holding back laughter, shoulders shaking. With a sneer she threw a Cheerio at him. “Really?” she hissed. When he looked up, Claire felt her heart drop into her stomach. His face was lined with laughter, smile wide and beautiful, laughing at her. Sometimes it hit her so hard, just how lucky she was. Always at the worst possible moment, naturally, like when she tried to be angry at him. What’s more, she could see all those gorgeous features on her little baby boy. So she really couldn’t help herself. Claire pulled his face to hers and kissed him soundly, and then thoroughly confused him when she promptly followed it with a sharp slap to his cheek.

“You ever use that clicker on him again and you’ll be on the couch for a month.”

He smirked, “You wouldn’t last one night.”

“Try me.”

Owen took advantage of her position to pull her in for another kiss, deepening it before she could catch up, and cupped her head to hold her there. Nope, not a night. Next to them, baby Charlie let out a loud and merry shriek that made them both cringe. In tandem, they turned their heads only to get fistfuls of Cheerios thrown in their faces. “No clicks for that one!” Owen sniffed. Charlie let out another screech and kicked his feet happily, picking at the Cheerios still left on his tray.


End file.
